


Personal Assistant

by kenporusty



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Businessman AU, M/M, RPF, mention of an ofc, tumblr prompt fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenporusty/pseuds/kenporusty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've been bugging bluepeony for prompts on Tumblr and generally being a pest, so I got this:<br/><i></i></p><p>how about some dean/graham? i know that’s not exactly adventurous but i just feel like it has a lot of potential and no one seems very keen on it. which is ridic because ok they’re both hot, and then SIZE DIFFERENCE HELLO like tell me that isn’t hot ok everyone digs adam/graham why not dean/graham??<br/>i haven’t got a specific scenario in mind, but i would love to see an AU where dean works for graham as like an assistant (maybe with graham as some hot shot businessman w/ lots of business meetings with super rich mr armitage and mr pace) and dean is just super puppy-eyes in love with him and tries to get his attention in ridiculous ways and usually ends up fucking up as a result (e.g. tries his best to get graham’s favourite coffee on the desk by 8am and in his haste ends up accidentally spilling it all over everything. that is a lame example but u feel me)</p><p> </p><p>I hope you enjoy even though I diverged a bit from the prompt, but oh well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because we always need more O'Tavish. Always.

Dean O’Gorman definitely felt the best part of this new job in dreary Scotland was his boss. Tall - much taller than himself - and blue eyed with a scintillating hint of well-toned muscle beneath. Graham McTavish definitely made the shit weather be a little less shitty when he was around.

And he was always around, since Dean was now Mr. McTavish’s personal assistant. (“Just call me Graham, Mr. McTavish is my father,” Graham had joked on one of Dean’s first days. Dean had simply rolled his eyes at the overused joke, but quickly smiled once Graham started laughing: a throaty, deep laugh that threatened to shatter his entire face he smiled so much.)

Still, New Zealand properness demanded he call him “Mr. McTavish” for at least a few more days before giving up.

New Zealand. The island nation in the south Pacific. 

It’s not as if Dean hated his home, and wanted to get away. New Zealand had never done anything wrong to Dean, well, except that one ex, but that was another story. Just. The acting never played out, and the photography barely paid the bills. He got offers to shoot weddings, but all he wanted to do was shoot models, and landscapes, and silly macro shots of Lego Star Wars characters. So when a friend of a friend of a distant family member off-handedly mentioned a PA position at McTavish Enterprises, Dean sent off a resume as soon as possible. He never expected to get the job.

Or for Graham to personally pay his airfare to reach Scotland. Or for Graham to pay the visa fees so Dean could actually work in the country.

Or for Graham to be so god damned, drop dead gorgeous.

Dean spent the first few days at work fumbling around, trying not to blush, trying not to stare, and hoping he would not get lost in the maze of cubicles and hallways. Or the maze of the streets of Edinburgh trying to find his way back to his small flat with the uncomfortable bed, drafty window, and exceedingly loud upstairs neighbors.

Nonetheless, three weeks in, Dean was finally getting control of the job, and his emotions. He sashayed into Graham’s office as if it was no big thing, completely bypassing the well-dressed suits waiting under the indifferent stare of the secretary. She tried chatting him up a few times, complimenting his accent. Well, not complimenting. Close enough. (“It’s like an Australian huffed some helium, it’s so cute.”) Dean had laughed that off; not wanting to say what came to his mind. (“Well, your accent sounds like a Brit got a badger stuck in its throat.”) He knew that would be entirely too rude, and a misrepresentation, anyway. He really couldn’t think of a good analogy for the plethora of thick and thin Scots accents he heard daily. He, politely, shut her down when she asked him out for drinks. After that small incident, he was on the receiving end of the indifferent stares as well.

“Double shot mocha, one shot raspberry,” Dean said, resolutely keeping his eyes off his boss as he set the coffee down on his desk.

“Thank you, Dean. What’s on the agenda?”

Dean pulled out his iPad - supposedly used for work, but often used for Angry Birds - and opened up the calendar.

“Meeting at 9:30 with Mr. Armitage and Mr. Pace, that should be an hour, about the acquisition of their publishing department. Lunch meeting with Mr. Turner, and you are booked with afternoon meetings until four.” Dean read off the screen, lowering it and looking at Graham for the first time this morning.

He blinked, and dropped the iPad, sending the hot coffee all over Graham’s desk and all over Graham’s nice suit jacket. He jumped up, knocking the chair over, and Dean dived for the cup, saving it before the whole thing emptied.

“Christ, Graham, I’m sorry!”Dean righted the cup and fumbled with it.

“Dean, Dean, its okay, honest mistake, yeah? Go get me some paper towels or something.” Graham shooed him away.

Dean took off and dashed to the washroom, pulling out a handful of paper towels and rushing back to sop up the coffee from Graham’s desk. Graham had taken off the fawn colored jacket, and Dean just stopped and stared.

“Thankfully the coffee only really got on my jacket and not on my trousers, so no harm done.” Graham said, hanging his jacket on the coat rack. “You going to help clean up?”

Dean couldn’t help but wince at how annoyed Graham sounded.

“Uh, yeah!” Dean peeled his eyes from the tall frame, darting forward with the paper towels, soaking up the spilled coffee. Graham busied himself pulling papers off the desk, setting them aside to dry. He paused once Dean had soaked most of the coffee up, tossing the towels in the bin.

“I’m really very sorry about this, Mr. McTavish.” Dean said, frowning and worrying his lower lip.

Graham ran a hand over his bald head, “Dean, don’t worry about it. We got it cleaned up. Listen, the meeting is going to start shortly, so why don’t you take the company card and go get me another coffee and a couple for Mr. Armitage and Mr. Pace. And some pastries,” he sighed.

“Yes, sir,” Dean sounded defeated as he took the proffered card.

Graham put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed, “Seriously, Dean, it’s alright, don’t beat yourself up over this.”

Dean smiled and warmed all over, sure as hell his face was flushing pink. He put his hand on Graham’s surprisingly toned forearm and squeezed.

“Right, boss. I’ll be right back.” Dean slipped out of his grip and out of the office.

He looked at the two well-dressed men waiting under that cold scrutiny of the secretary. One man wore a silver suit with dark brunette hair. That man sat like royalty. The second man was equally as tall, but, like Graham, muscles threatened the finely tailored shirt. Royal man was rather attractive, until the eyebrows, those resembled particularly hairy caterpillars. He tried not to frown as he hurried from the waiting area to the elevators.

***

“Graham loved the coffee so much he wanted another, eh?” Came the lilt of a familiar Irish accent from across the coffee shop. Dean waved at the curly-haired Aidan Turner, busily manning the bar with no customers, and looked sheepish.

“I kinda spilled the coffee all over his desk and on him. I came for another one and some coffees for the men he’s meeting with.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

“Mate! You gotta wait until he does something wrong before you dump your drink of him!” Aidan chirruped, and Dean turned pink. A sardonic snort came from the kitchen area. James was on shift, apparently.

Great, two sassy Irishmen were left to arm a Scottish coffee shop.

“So, any special requests? Same as before for Graham, I gather, what about these mysterious businessmen?” Aidan wiggled his fingers as if he were casting a spell.

On cue, his phone buzzed with a text message.

“Double shot espresso for Mr. Pace, and a soy latte for Mr. Armitage,” Dean read off the screen.

Aidan’s eyebrows went up, “Pace and Armitage? Really,” he trailed off, turning to grab three cups, and busy himself with doing his job.

“Any food to go with that?” James stuck his head out from the kitchen door.

“Just some nice pastries. Whatever you have that’s really good, the fresher the better,” Dean smiled at him.

“Right, so nothing from the bottom of the case,” James laughed and busied himself filling a box with something. Dean wasn’t paying attention. He was watching Aidan construct the coffees with grace.

“So, how your paying today? Have the boss’s card?” James asked, setting the tan box down just before Aidan graced the top with a cup holder and four cups.

“Four drinks?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

Aidan grinned widely, “three coffees for the lads, and a tea for you, on the house.”

“I can’t accept that, James, ring that tea up.” Dean protested.

“Nope, what the shift manager says, goes,” James grinned through his accent.

“As for paying, he gave the card, but I caused this mess, so I’ll pay cash,” Dean pulled a twenty from his wallet, handing it to James. He pocketed the change after dropping a five in the tip jar.

“Better hurry back before things cool. See you tomorrow, yeah?” Aidan shooed him from the store, turning to greet a customer that had entered.

Dean smiled and nodded, “sure thing. Thanks guys, best coffee in Edinburgh.”

The rather mouse-faced man looked at Dean as he left and gave Aidan a brilliant smile that almost knocked the Irishman off his feet.

***

Balancing the unwieldy packages, Dean knocked on the door to Graham’s office, and bumped the door open when given permission.

“Sorry I’m late, Mr. McTavish,” Dean said, turning on his most brilliant smile. He set the pastry box on a small table by the door and brought the coffees to the men. He noticed the two facing Graham were the same as the two he passed after the first coffee incident.

“Ah, thank you, Dean,” Graham took the offered cup. Dean desperately hoped he didn’t blush as Graham’s fingertips brushed his. Graham set the cup in front of him, and waved towards the two men.

“Mr. Armitage,” the muscular one, “and Mr. Pace,” caterpillar eyebrows.

Dean nodded, almost giving a slight bow and held out his hand, “Dean O’Gorman, it is a pleasure.”

Mr. Armitage had a strong shake while Mr. Pace was rather limp-wristed.

“Wonderful meeting you, Mr. O’Gorman, what is that accent?” Mr. Armitage asked his British accent wrapped in deep gravel.

“New Zealand, sir. Auckland, actually,” Dean shifted, forced himself to smile, and resisted the urge to shove his hands in his pockets, finding that too unprofessional.

“Well then, welcome to Scotland. I hope you’re settling in well enough.”

“I’m getting used to it, thank you,” Dean nodded.

“Dean,” Graham cleared his throat.

“Oh, right,” Dean started, “there’s some pastries for you here.”

Dean patted the box as he scooped up his cup of tea, and left the office, shutting the door quietly behind him. He leaned on the wall opposite and sighed.

This job would probably kill him.


	2. Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twice in one day Dean gets surprised by Graham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for such a delay! Holiday and bit of a busy life. Kind of a changeover point right now.
> 
> I do hope everyone had a lovely holiday, whether you celebrate or not. It was a good day to gather with the family!  
> Except I blew mine off to go taking pictures in the "wilds" of Delaware.

“So let me get this straight, mate,” Aidan held out his hand, palm-out, fingers slightly splayed, “after bumbling around him for, what, six weeks, you finally got the bollocks to _tell him_ how you feel? What the hell went down?”

“Before I tell you, sit properly on that chair, I don’t want you to fall over.” Dean looked critically at Aidan, who was more perched on the chair at the coffee shop, butt on the back, feet on the seat. No, Aidan wasn’t perched, Aidan was balanced there.

He hopped off, spun the chair around and sat down, arms resting across the back, chin on his forearms, eyes in full puppy-dog mode. Dean took a deep breath, not to calm himself, but more to control the words from just spilling over in the stream of unbridled memory.

***

__

__

_“Dean, do me a favour.” Graham said, not looking up from the paperwork strewn across his desk._

_“It’s my job, what do you need?” Dean put down the tablet - Angry Birds again - and came to stand by Graham’s desk._

_“There’s an address pinned to the wall over there,” he waved at the cork board, “I need you to take that to the flower shop down the road and get them to send a flower arrangement with the note under the address.”_

_“Sure.” Dean went and pulled the address and note down._

_“And tell them to put it on my account. I think they have the account number saved. If not, ring me and I’ll give you the number over the phone,” Graham looked up at Dean and smiled at him, the corner of his eyes crinkling._

_Dean scanned the address, “the Seychelles?” He scanned the rest. **“Dearest Liz, I hope you are enjoying the weather in the Seychelles right now. I wish I could be down there with you right now, Scotland is just miserable right now. Hugs and kisses, lots of love.”**_

_Dean almost dropped his tablet as his heart hit his stomach, knotting into an angry ball of pain and hurt. Graham noticed the fumbled and looked up, concerned._

_“Christ, Dean, you look like hell? Are you feeling alright?” Graham was on his feet immediately, papers ignored._

_Dean swallowed, “yeah, I’m fine. So your wife is in the Seychelles?” He cursed his voice, which squeaked more than usual._

_Graham laughed, “heavens no,” Graham flashed his left hand, “Liz is my daughter. She is there on holiday for a few weeks. I’ll introduce you two when she comes home.”_

_Dean felt some small relief, “Sorry to presume, I really didn’t mean it.”_

_Graham shrugged, “I try to make an effort to keep my private life private and out of business, but since you brought it up, what about you? Did you leave a lucky lady back in New Zealand?”_

_“Uh, well, no, not exactly,” Dean felt incredibly uncomfortable at the moment, shifting nervously._

_“Wonderful, come to a new land completely unattached,” Graham slapped his shoulder, “now get a move on before they close.”_

_Dean put his hand on Graham’s, and looked at him in the eyes, “maybe it’s not a lady I’ll be looking for in Scotland.”_

_Graham dropped his hand and his gaze hardened._

_“Dean, this isn’t the time for that. Now go on, and take the afternoon off when you’re done.”_

Aidan leaned over, tipping his chair forward, and rubbed Dean’s biceps.

“I’m sorry, mate, that could have gone better.” Aidan said.

“You’re telling me. I mean, I wasn’t straight forward, but close enough. I don’t know how I’m going to handle going back into work tomorrow.” Dean worried his lip and dropped his face into his hands.

“Walk in with a smile on your face, and a no regrets attitude. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Dean fixed him with a truly rueful look, “I can be fired for harassment and fraternization,” he said flatly. “And when that happens, I will have to go back to New Zealand a failure.”

“New Zealand doesn’t sound all that bad, though.”

“It has it’s perks, but I’m growing fond of this place, despite the decidedly bum weather. All I had back in New Zealand was a few acting gigs, and photography that never really paid well,” Dean shrugged. “Weather was lovely, though.”

Aidan grinned, “photography yeah? Do I ever get to see some of these photographs?”

Dean frowned, “I have the digital files on my external. I guess I could bring it and my laptop in some time.”

“I’d like that,” Aidan smiled, and glanced at James behind the bar. James waved a dismissive hand at Aidan. The coffee shop was currently dead.

“Dean, there you are,” a familiar voice came from the door.

Dean stiffened then turned to face the voice. Aidan gave Graham an approving once-over, winked at Dean, and scampered back to the safety of James. Out of the other’s sight, James wrapped his arm around Aidan’s waist and nuzzled his neck briefly.

“Dean, about earlier,” Graham said, dropping into the chair Aidan had just vacated. Dean fought to keep his eyes on Graham’s blue eyes, and not at the juncture of Graham’s splayed legs where his hands came to rest.

“I understand, I overstepped a boundary, and for that, I’m sorry.” Dean said sullenly.

“No, well, yes, but we both overstepped boundaries. That conversation was far from professional, and HR would have a fit if they heard that little chat.” Graham cleared this throat.

“So? You left work when you have a meeting in half an hour to reprimand me?”

“What? No, I’m not reprimanding you, and even when you’re not working you still know my schedule, I’m impressed.”

“It’s my job, Graham. Listen, get to the point or I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Right. So, I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner tonight. Off the record, not work related. No boss-employee in this at all, just two mates grabbing a bite.”

Dean’s eyebrow crept into his hairline, “right, so if HR gets word of that one, we’ll be fine because at that point you’re not my boss, you’re my friend.”

“I just owe you an explanation. And an apology, I screwed up badly. I would rather do it somewhere other than work, or a coffee shop where we have spies apparently,” Graham raised his voice enough that Dean saw Aidan’s face flush and he rushed into the kitchen.

“Fine. I don’t know the area, you do, so meet me at my flat tonight. You should be out of meetings at seven, so I’ll expect you sometime after that.” Dean sounded annoyed and cold outwardly, but inside, his heart raced.

Graham stood, patted Dean on the shoulder, and left. Aidan was back in an instant.

“So, what was that all about?” He said, his accent especially drawly, eyebrows wiggling.

“We’re having a completely platonic dinner tonight,” Dean managed to keep his voice under control.

Aidan’s sudden smile could have set everything right if Dean wasn’t feeling so apprehensive about what would happen after 7.

“Listen, I gotta go. Don’t want to waste all your time when you could be serving all these customers,” Dean waved his hand at the empty shop. “Thanks for giving an ear.”

“Any time, man,” Aidan passed Dean a scrap of paper with a number scrawled on it. “Figured it’s been weeks since we started talking in the shop, so now you know how to get me when I’m off shift, yeah.”

“Thanks,” Dean looked at the paper and shoved it unceremoniously into his pocket as he stood and stretched.

“Thanks for being an ear when I’ve needed it.” Dean stuck his hand out. They shook, and Aidan patted the outside of his hand.

“Tonight will go fine, yeah? Let me know.”

“Ta, will do.”

Dean left the store and caught the bus back to his apartment. The clock said it was just after three, Graham would be in his meeting by now, and his secretary will be giving Dean more frosty looks than normal, since she is his stand in. Apparently before Dean was hired, she did his job as well as being the secretary for half the pay. Dean’s tie was loosened and off before his key slipped into the lock and the door clicked open. He tried his best not to think of Graham’s key slipping into his lock, but his mind betrayed him and he felt himself flush hot.

The little grey kitten he adopted a few weeks back mewled pitifully at him for attention and food. He toed his shoes off,  scooped up the ball of fur, and carried it into the kitchen, setting it on the floor as he measured out dry food for it. Oin, the kitten’s name he decided, scampered through the apartment before careening back into the kitchen, loosing traction, and slamming butt first into a cabinet. He regained his composure with a quick wash and rushed to gobble the food Dean set down.

Dean’s shirt was the next to go, his nice button down pale pink shirt that hugged his body quite well. He hoped Graham enjoyed it, and was afraid that the shirt might have led to some confusion. Tossing it into the pile for the cleaners, his trousers following shortly, he walked in nothing but his pants and undershirt to start the water running for a shower.

The bell rang, he groaned, pulled on his multi-coloured robe - a gift from his mother , shut off the water, and went to go see who was practically hanging on the bell.

The door creaked when opened.

“Graham?”

“Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE! I don't know if Graham has any kids, or, if he does, what they're names are. This gal just kind of came along as the plot needed it.
> 
> I hope you ignore any errors. I have no beta and I posted this in a smidge of a rush. If need be, I will come back and clean this up.
> 
> Thank you for your patience, dear readers! <3


	3. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graham is in Dean's apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating jacked up explicit.
> 
> I'm going to go hide now. I haven't written smut in a long time. I'm very, VERY out of practice, so I apologize a head of time!
> 
> *runs off to hide in the corner*

Dean stared at his boss standing in his doorway, completely forgetting his manners, or that he was clad in only a robe.

“Uh,” he coughed, “come on in. I was going to have a shower, since you had meetings, but, I guess that can wait,” Dean moved aside, stumbling on his own feet.

“Thanks. Actually, my afternoon meetings cancelled on me, so I decided to take the afternoon off. I am the boss, right? I can do that.” Graham laughed and stepped inside. Dean shut the door quickly behind him.

“Then, uh, let me go find something to wear. Make yourself comfortable,” He waved at the couch and retreated.

Dean was certain he felt blue eyes watching him.

O’Gorman spent entirely too much time agonizing over what to wear casually in front of his boss. He plucked at various button down shirts and tee shirts hanging in his closet, but quickly decided the skinny jeans would be best. Those jeans weren’t stained with years of painting, and made his ass look rather fantastic, thank you very much. He nearly lost his balance putting them on.

“You alright in there?” Graham asked from the hallway outside the door.

Fuck, Dean had forgotten to close his bedroom door. He scrambled to right himself, and pull the jeans on, almost taking out the lamp at the same time.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said. Finally mastering the art of pants, he zipped the fly. “Come on in.” Dean straightened as Graham came in, and stopped dead.

Graham in his home. His boss, but right now, he wasn’t his boss. He was just a man that Dean had an inescapable crush on. Graham didn’t exude CEO alpha maleness at the moment. He was just another man.

And now he was staring at Dean, his employee, with a look of utter surprise and something else. Some look veiled by the thoughts of “this is wrong,” and “he is my employee, HR would have a fit.” Dean couldn’t put his finger on the look, eyes wide, pupils widening, that blue shrinking to a slim corona around dark depths.

Lust.

Dean, clad in nothing but an undershirt, pants, and skinny jeans, caught Graham’s lust full force. The taller Scotsman was behind Dean in a blink. Blink. His arms were around Dean’s waist.

Blink.

Beard against neck.

Blink. Breath.

Hot breath on his neck. Blink. Words murmured in his ear. Sweet nothings. A register too deep, too tinged with want to form actual syllables.

Dean remembered to breathe.

And forgot again when warm, wet lips latched onto his neck, moving slowly from ear to shoulder and back again. A hand moved to splay across Dean’s stomach, drawing him closer still, fingers ran questions along the hem. Still barely breathing, Dean nodded his assent. Fingers gripped the hem of the shirt and pulled. Questioning, large hands ran the length of his chest and stomach, pausing to appreciate the dusting of blonde hair, the puckering of each pebbled nipple, hard and erect.

Dean remembered how to gasp. How to lean his head back on the taller man’s shoulder, how to moan deeply, and appreciate the lips that never stopped worshipping his neck. Sudden movement and Graham pulled away. Dean whined at the loss, but quickly focused on Graham. Your boss, a small part of his mind screamed. The rest of his mind quickly told that part to sod off.

Graham. Just in white shirt and trousers. Standing in his bedroom looking like Adonis come to Earth just for the sake of ravaging Dean. He caught Dean’s eye and smiled. A feral smile. The hunter who knows his prey has no chance of escape. Dean felt his breath die again. Fingers began to work the buttons of Graham’s shirt. Quickly two sets of hands, warring for independence and superiority had his shirt open. Graham shucked off the cloth, and folded it neatly, tossing the folded bundle to the floor.

Such aloof care.

Dean was on fire. He ran his fingers beneath the hem of the undershirt, the same asking as Graham gave him. Graham nodded, catching Dean’s sea blue eyes with his sharp, deeper blue eyes. There was no color left, just a haze around a universe of dark. Dean looked into those eyes, and was lost. The undershirt came off, and Dean stared. He ran his fingers tentatively over the planes of muscle and flesh and little hair. The ripple of abdominal muscles, toned obliques, and even a well defined serratus anterior. The boxer’s muscle.

Dean was lost into a world of sensation, and lust, and flesh. Encroaching on his boss’s personal space. Skin ignited with touch, passion burned.

And he was done when their lips finally met.

Soft at first, almost hesitant. Testing boundaries, testing new and exciting waters.

Walls fell and dams broke.

The first kiss stretched for what felt like forever. They broke for air, forehead against forehead. Dean laughed.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Graham growled, voice gone with need.

He dropped his head down again, threading his fingers into Dean’s hair, supporting his head as they kissed.

“Pull,” Dean challenged into Graham’s mouth. Graham chuckled, growled softly, and wrapped those strong fingers in Dean’s hair, pulling his neck back.

The sound Dean made went straight to Graham’s cock. He pushed Dean’s head back up and resumed ravaging Dean’s mouth. His tongue swiped at Dean’s lower lip. Dean more than willingly parted his lips, allowing Graham’s tongue to explore the depths of his mouth. Sparks of fire trailed every movement of Graham on his skin. Sensation pooled in his abdomen.

Skinny jeans just made his erection more painful.

Graham began to move, to walk Dean backwards to his bed. Dean followed the directions chunkily, refusing to relinquish his war with Graham’s soft, kiss-swollen lips. When someone describes being backed into the bed, they always describe the fall as graceful, their partner landing smoothly on top of them. Very poetic.

This could be farther from the truth. The person against the bed always has a moment of panic, whether aware of it or not, a tiny part of their brain flails at the sudden loss of control.

Most people are too lost in sensation to pay attention to that tiny part of their brain.

Except Dean.

Dean felt his knees buckle, and he broke the kiss, losing his balance and flailing to catch himself, looking panicked. Graham watched him with amusement hazing through the lust, allowing him a second to watch Dean’s eyes widen slightly, his hand fly down, and with the grace of a misguided house cat, catch himself on the mattress.

They both laughed easily.

Graham made to kneel on the bed between Dean’s legs. Dean scooted himself back to the head of the bed, making room for Graham kiss his way up the inside of Dean’s clothed thighs, muscles taut beneath the hugging fabric of the denim. Dean groaned bucking his hips as Graham ghosted his lips over the form of his constrained cock.

The sound, to Graham, was pure aural pornography. He growled low in his throat, creeping slowly up the smaller man’s body, leaving small kisses and bites as he went, straddling Dean’s slim hips.

Dean looked wrecked. His cock strained, his cheeks were flushed, his arm was thrown over his eyes and his hair was a mess.

Graham desired to see his employee fall completely apart in his hands.

His mouth found Dean’s nipple, latching on, sucking, stroking it with his tongue, pulling away, and blowing a gentle puff of air. Dean made a noise that died in his throat. Graham grinned and paid the same attention to his other nipple. Dean once more made a strangle noise.

“What’s wrong, afraid of waking the neighbors?” Graham grinned, burying his nose in the soft hair of Dean’s chest and kissing a path down the well-muscled planes of the smaller man’s stomach.

“Fuck the neighbors. I don’t care what they hear.” Dean mumbled, stomach muscles contracting, arching Graham’s touch.

“Then make some noise for me,” Graham said in a soft commanding voice.

“Graham,” Dean moaned, dragging out the vowel.

There was no hesitant questioning when Graham reached Dean’s waist. The button popped, the fly zipped, and Dean arched to meet Graham’s fingers as they played around the bulge in his boxers. Dean moaned again as Graham’s fingers lightly played across his clothed cock, Graham’s name among the stream of discombobulated syllables.

“Please,” was the second coherent word out of Dean. Graham looked up to meet his eyes.

Eyes blown wide with lust. Hand fisted into the pillow. His face alone broke Graham.

Fingers snatched at the offending clothing, lifting, pulling, and shucking it off Dean’s wonderful legs. Graham disrobed as well, shifting up between Dean’s legs, wrapping the younger man’s legs around his hips. He hissed at the contact between their erections, the soft warmth, the fire sparking in his groin. Dean groaned his name again, wrapping his large hand around both their cocks, rutting up into Graham’s hips. With a gasp, Graham broke away. He didn’t want to come yet. Dean whined, and Graham slowly stroked his cock, running his thumb over the head, swollen and leaking, smearing pre-come. He leaned up to capture Dean’s lips with his own, kissing him into the pillow.

“Be right back,” he whispered against Dean’s lips before breaking away.

Dean pushed himself up on his elbows to watch as Graham dug through his pockets, coming back with a small tube and foil package.

“Came prepared, huh,” Dean growled, voice rough. Graham found the voice irresistible.

“Fucking believe it,” Graham purred, capturing Dean again in a brutal kiss.

A tiny amount of lube in his hand to warm it, coat one finger liberally, and move the finger to massage the pucker of muscle.

“First time?” Graham whispered against Dean.

Dean shook his head, “no.”

Graham grinned, “good,” he drew the word out as he pushed the digit into Dean.

Dean gasped and relaxed as Graham’s finger entered him, and crooked up to strike his prostate. Stars flashed across the younger man’s vision.

He keened loudly. Graham smiled. A second finger joined the first, scissoring Dean open. Fingers crooked again, and brushed his prostate.

Dean threw himself deeper into the mattress, moaning loudly now, crying Graham’s name. Graham looked at him, smiling, before ducking his head, licking a hot stripe up the underside of Dean’s cock. Dean clenched around Graham, swore lowly, bucked his hips. Graham licked again, lingering on the head of his cock, savoring the bitter flavor of the pre-come. He smiled and took Dean’s whole length into his mouth, holding down the man’s hips with his free hand.

A thick finger joined the two as Graham’s mouth and tongue worked Dean’s cock. Dean broke down into unintelligible sounds.

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Please, Graham, I need you in me.”

Graham chuckled and pulled off Dean’s cock with a wet pop. He pulled his fingers out, Dean whining at the suddenly loss.

A rip of foil, the sound of the condom being rolled on, lube applied, and Dean’s lips were occupied with dark words as Graham pushed himself inside slowly, watching, waiting for the assent to move.

Graham groaned as he moved slowly, reveling in the tight heat of Dean. He panted, and bit down on Dean’s shoulder, sucking a purpling mark.

“Faster,” Dean panted, nails finding purchase on Graham’s back.

Graham propped himself up, angling himself to hit Dean’s prostate, speeding up, watching Dean come undone, feeling him begin to clench. He growled, wrapping his hand around Dean’s cock, pumping in time with his hips.

Dean arched, and writhed, moaned and cried. He leaned up to capture Graham’s lips, loosing himself in the feeling of Graham.

“Gonna...come,” he panted against Graham’s lips. Graham just smiled, fucking Dean faster, harder, striking his prostate repeatedly.

When Dean stiffened beneath him, Graham buried himself in Dean, stroking his cock while Dean came in ribbons across Graham’s hand and his stomach, Graham’s name on his lips. Graham stroked him through the orgasm, and waited for Dean to nod before moving again.

It didn’t take long, his whole body shuddered, and he collapsed on Dean, panting his name, as he came hard. Dean wrapped his arms around Graham, holding him through the aftershocks.

Graham rolled, boneless and sated onto his side, pulling Dean close, and kissing him softly.

“Fuck, that was,” Dean started, voice still rough.

“Amazing?” Graham finished.

Dean grinned, “I was going to say unexpected, but I will go with amazing.”

Graham kissed Dean softly and slipped from the bed, heading for the bathroom, and returning with two glasses of water. He handed one to Dean, and shuffled the pillows to sit upright against the headboard with Dean, back against his chest, arms wrapped around the smaller man. Dean tried to take a drink, but fumbled, spilling water on Graham’s arms.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, putting the glass on the nightstand.

“So I think we need to have a little chat about where we stand,” Graham dropped a kiss into Dean’s hair.

Dean should have felt afraid, but he didn’t. He felt comfortable. He turned to kiss Graham quickly, “like how I’ve crushed on you since the first time I met you?”

Graham raised an eyebrow and chuckled, “something like that, yeah.”


	4. Epilogue

“So he helped you find a new job?” Aidan pried hungrily.

Dean laughed, “Apparently Mr. Armitage was impressed by me during that first meeting. He offered me a job similar to what I did for Graham, and offered to pay me a little more.”

“That’s great! So now you and Graham…”

Dean nodded and took a drink of his coffee, “his daughter is coming back from the Seychelles soon, so I get to go through trial by family.”

Aidan rolled his eyes, but grinned at his friend.

When Dean had first come to Scotland from New Zealand, Graham was only a pin-point of light in his life.

Now, Graham shone brighter than ever.

Dean couldn’t have asked for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking this through.
> 
> I keep checking the hits and kudos and comments, and I'm amazed.
> 
> Thank you all, I love my readers.
> 
> And bluepeony, I hope you enjoyed this thoroughly.  
> <3
> 
> (and there are a few side stories in the works for this particular universe.)

**Author's Note:**

> I meant for this to be a one-shot, but it kind of got away from me.


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